Monster
by Murasaki Kaida
Summary: A series of Yuffentine AU oneshots. Campus librarian Vincent finds himself caught in debates with student Yuffie over books and the morals of monsters. Will eventually have romance.


Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII in any shape or form.

MISC: Written for Lisann at LJ with the prompt of 'AU'. I've been reading Frankenstein for one of my classes and it made me think of Vincent. So here I present to you a discussion of symbolism related to the actual FFVII storyline. Huge thanks to my beta, Lilmisfits8811. Please R&R!

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked off everlasting seconds. The low, homely glow of the lamps bathed the wood-panelled campus library with a peaceful aura.

As the clock strained towards eleven, the empty desks and bookshelves were organised and dusted. Misplaced books were returned and newspapers were filed in the correct areas. The wooden floor was dusted and paper balls left by students were placed in the trash.

Red eyes lifted from the book he held in his hands and Vincent Valentine stared at the clock on the wall.

It was, he knew, his fault. Accepting the night shift and watching over any ambitious student foolish enough to interrupt the sleep they took for granted was all his idea. He would never be able to sleep anyway, and so Vincent thought it was the obvious answer to accept the shift that nobody else wanted.

It was only an unfortunate side affect that at this time of night, the second hand on the clock seemed to slow down. It moved as though it were stuck in thick syrup, just like his tired thoughts, and he and the clock strained towards midnight together.

Vincent slipped the poetry anthology into the correct place on the shelf. He was surprised that any of the drunken animals he saw dragging themselves around campus even knew Rimbaud existed, but someone apparently had. Had known well enough to keep the book a fortnight too late, as well.

Vincent pushed the loose black strands that wouldn't fit back into his ponytail behind his ear. He looked to the desk behind him, checking to see where the next book was to be returned to – only to find that there were none.

Like an ant with a leaf in its path, he stood stock still. All other chores had been completed and it wasn't even eleven o' clock yet.

He had nothing to do.

Vincent looked at the clock again – his face apathetic as he noted that the second hand hadn't even seemed to make a full circuit yet. It was approaching Easter break and no students would be in the library at this hour. They'd be preparing to go home and gorge on chocolate, not studying for essays or exams.

Not that that would have made much of a difference.

Vincent wondered once again why he'd ever accepted this job from Bugenhagen. It really didn't matter if the old man had shown touching concern for his wellbeing – Vincent was a recluse by nature and that was the way it should have stayed. At least when he was a recluse in his own home, he didn't find himself watching the clock.

He paused, cocking his head. The library doors had just opened, the faint squeak in the hinges barely having time to react with how fast they was flung open. The squeal of rubber-soled shoes over the linoleum made him wince – he hated it when students ran in the library.

The thud of running footfalls echoed around the quiet, austere building and Vincent debated with himself as to whether he should confront them about it. He was a man of few words and at this hour, those few words took tremendous effort.

A loud, masculine yell rang out. The library doors flew open for the second time, and Vincent heaved a sigh. It was inevitable. Whoever brought their squabbles into the library would have to be dealt with, and he had his own special ways for dealing with drunken students.

He tugged his black shirt sleeve down over his prosthetic left arm and stepped out from the rows of bookshelves.

From there, Vincent could see nothing but the main desk and the empty trolleys behind it. The double doors were closed again – so silent and nondescript that he almost felt tempted to tell himself no one had ever come through, but the yells he heard as someone ran through the bookshelves told him differently.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

_So what __is it__ to be today?_ Vincent thought, walking towards the voice. _A lover's quarrel?__Sexual assault?_

"Get the hell away from me, jerk!"

"I'M GONNA MAKE YOU REGRET EVER MEETING ME YOU WHORE!"

"Already do, sparky! Nyuk nyuk!"

Vincent turned down the history aisle and stopped. A young woman – very slender, with short black hair and a book bag on her shoulder – was backing away from a large man whose face was red and splotchy. He didn't look like a student at all – and the little knife he held in his hand definitely went against campus regulations.

"Hey, drop the knife," the girl snapped, her Wutainese accent strong. She backed up further when the man continued to advance, his face sweating profusely. "Drop it or I'll kick your pathetic ass, I mean it!"

"What could you do to me, little girl?" The man snarled. His eyes bulged, and Vincent thought that perhaps he'd had too much to drink.

"I'll have you know, freako, that I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie," she drawled, putting her hands on her tiny hips. "And if you come just one step closer – "

"What are you doing in this library?" Vincent asked.

The girl whipped towards him, her large brown eyes widening. She looked all too innocent, and Vincent was already suspicious of her. But logic dictated that he worry more about the drunk man with the knife. He stepped further into the aisle, levelling the startled man with his red eyes.

"Sh-she – that little bitch stole from me!" The man roared, jerking the knife in the girl's direction.

"That's not true!" She yelled, looking at Vincent with a pleading look. "He just started waving a knife at me and chasing me! You're such a gross liar you beer-gut loser."

The man shouted and moved to lunge at her.

"Stay where you are," Vincent ordered. His voice was low and calm, but the chill cut to the bone and the man faltered, staring at him uneasily. He seemed to notice for the first time the brilliant crimson eyes and nonchalance of the librarian.

"She took my wallet," he protested, but his voice was dull – the wind taken from his sails. He backed away from Vincent, glaring at the girl.

"If she took your wallet – "

"I so did NOT!"

" – then I advise you to go to the police, rather than brandish a knife like a criminal. You will only be arrested for attacking a woman."

"B-but – "

"Go to the police," Vincent repeated.

"HEY! Mister – "

"I believe she said her name was 'Yuffie', and she is clearly Wutainese, so you should have no difficulty describing her. If they see more to your claims than drunken delusion you will resolve your problems without my having to put a bullet in your skull."

The man's eyes widened in horror. "H-hey, who the hell're you to threaten – "

"Go now. I am not making a request. This is private property and you are neither a student nor a member of staff."

The girl looked between both of them, intrigue sparkling in her eyes. The man's look was very different. He looked about to recycle everything in his stomach. He darted his eyes between Vincent and the girl, backing away. He folded the knife shut and put it into his pocket as he turned and broke into a run – disappearing through the library doors in much the same fashion as he'd appeared through them.

"Wow," the girl grinned, spinning to face him. Her short hair brushed her cheeks as she bounced on the spot, hitching her bag higher onto her shoulder. "You really gave him the creeps! Course, he could've just been scared by my threat but I gotta admit – you're kinda weird, Mister Librarian Guy."

"This is a quiet study zone," Vincent intoned. "If you need anything, feel free to ask but I request that you keep the noise levels down. Thank you."

He turned his back to her and began to walk away. He felt no need to bother himself further with the situation – he was a graveyard shift librarian, not an officer of the law.

"H-hey!" Her feet thudded over the floor as she rushed to catch up to him. "Wait a second, Mister Librarian Guy – what if that man comes back?"

"He won't."

She blew a raspberry. "You don't know that for sure."

"He might come back."

"See!"

"…with police."

She huffed, never breaking stride with him. "I'd like to see them do something to me! I never stole anything. Unless he meant his heart, nyuk nyuk. Oh, gross."

"Indeed."

"Hey – can you just…stop running away for a second please?"

Vincent sighed. He may have been bored, but he would rather have just been sitting at the desk watching the clock than have an annoying teenage girl follow him around the library.

"I didn't just come here to be a pain in the ass, you know – I need your help!"

He stopped and turned towards her. He blinked slowly. "What do you need?"

"I'm Yuffie Kisaragi! Nice to meetcha!"

"What do you need?" He repeated.

She frowned, rolling her eyes heavenwards. "Not very smooth, are you? You're meant to tell me your name too."

"My name is not important. What do you need?"

Yuffie stamped her foot against the ground and sighed. "Geez, okay okay. I'm taking Professor Strife's Lit class – you know, guy with a head like a chocobo's butt? And I had the text, I really did, but that jackass Reno stole it and glued it to the ceiling – "

"You need a book."

"Yeah – Shelley's Frankenstein."

Vincent hesitated. He didn't keep up with curriculums. He'd had no idea that Frankenstein was on the reading list. He knew the book well – so well, in fact, that it felt like his book and for the briefest second he felt possessive. Then, without a word, he turned and began to stride through the aisles of orderly books.

Yuffie darted to keep up with him as he led the way through well-catalogued shelves. He moved almost silently over the floor, the material of his pant legs barely whispering with his steps.

"Hey…Mister?"

He turned his head a touch in her direction.

"Is that a fake arm?"

Vincent remained silent. He had learnt long ago from numerous nosy students that that was the best method.

"How did you get it?"

"When I lost my real arm," he replied.

Yuffie snorted. "No, really? Okay, I get it – man of mystery and all that."

Vincent stopped in front of a book shelf and immediately placed his hand upon one of the last two copies on the shelf. Taking it down, he held it out to the young girl.

"Ah, sweet!" She took it gladly. "I thought they might all be gone. Do you like this book, Mister?"

A very faint frown passed over his face before flitting away again. "…sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Yuffie cocked her head, her face playful but her eyes shrewd. "Sometimes as in 'depends on my mood' or as in 'stop asking questions'?"

He stared at her.

Yuffie rolled her eyes and grumbled. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Do you know anything about this book? At all? 'Cause if you do – and it's not like I see you leading a busy, social life – maybe you can sit down with me a moment and talk about it. It'd help me with my essay, I'll bet."

Vincent felt that he would rather tar and feather himself than willingly sit and discuss Frankenstein with this girl. "I don't talk about…monsters," he said.

"Tch!" Yuffie slung her bag onto the study desk that was tucked into a little niche in the bookshelves behind them. "Good thing this isn't your conventional monster story then, right? Don't worry, Mister – if at any point you get scared, I'll hold your hand. Nyuk nyuk!"

"My opinions would have no bearing on your essay," Vincent said, inwardly hoping she'd agree and leave.

"Half of these essays Professor Strife asks for are like debates of opinion anyway – so your opinion will be like writing the essay for me!" Yuffie flopped into one of the chairs and gestured to the one opposite her. "So tell me, Mister Librarian Guy. What do you think about the 'morals' of the story?"

Vincent sat with obvious reluctance, which the girl seemed to ignore. He found it ironic that she asked him that question first when she was under suspicion of having stolen a wallet. "What morals?"

Yuffie blinked at him. She leant forward over the table and put the book down between them. Vincent sat stiffly, staring at the monster on the cover. "'What morals'? Well, okay – the 'lack of morals' is a good answer, I guess. I'll rephrase. That Doctor Dude – Frankenstein, yeah? He created new life. Good for him. What about the whole moral stuff surrounding that?"

Vincent fought the urge to rub his temples. Already he felt like he was stepping across the thin ice of his own mentality. "I am not sure what you mean. Do you mean the morals around bringing a murderer to the world?"

Yuffie cocked a slim brow. "We could start with that one."

"He was foolish," he said, placing his organic hand over the prosthetic one beneath the table. "Evolution is necessary because it teaches a species to overcome the basest urges and grow into society."

"Basest urges?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Sex. Reproduction. Lashing out at threats. These are all things that have not faded away but rather have become controlled by a higher level of intelligence." Vincent thought that by the look on her face, she didn't understand him at all. But he continued anyway. "Frankenstein created something that not only didn't come from the evolutionary chain, but he also created something that didn't even have a childhood to learn from."

"The monster was flung right in the deep end," Yuffie nodded.

"And yet the monster had a high intelligence." Vincent drummed his fingers quietly against his prosthetic hand. "He learned things quickly from books. He spoke in a manner that caused narrative confusion – "

"Wait, whaddaya mean by that?" Yuffie frowned at the book. A little crease appeared above her nose and to Vincent she looked so young.

Did he really want to get into a conversation like this with her?

"At times…the monster speaks so eloquently that critics of the story have wondered if it is actually Frankenstein doing the bulk of the narrative. If he speak like a learned man such as Frankenstein and glean things from reading books then surely he should be held accountable for the murders he commits."

Yuffie nibbled on her lower lip, staring at the book as though it yielded all of the answers. Vincent wasn't sure she was even thinking on what he had said. The idea that he was speaking to someone who wasn't even listening felt embarrassing.

"I don't agree," Yuffie declared, giving him a plain look.

Vincent raised his elegant black brows.

"So much for learning from books – do you even remember the stuff the monster was reading?" Yuffie flicked at the spine of the book. "All different romantics – Russo, for one. And these people all had really, really conflicting views. What's he gonna learn from them? Split personality, is what. You're right – he didn't have evolution. He didn't have childhood. But I think he wouldn't have been too bad if he'd had better influences."

"If he can hold conversation, express himself eloquently and read such books then he is a person who can be held accountable for…his sins," Vincent protested quietly.

"But they're not really his sins, are they?" Yuffie argued. "Who the hell did Frankenstein think he was, anyway? That he had the right in any way to do what he did? I mean – is it even right for one man to hold the secrets of life and use them however he wanted? That's just selfish and dumb! I frankly think the monster lost a lot of morality because of its creator."

Vincent felt oddly chilled. Beneath his black shirt goosebumps littered his pale flesh. "You are basing your entire argument on the fact that the monster was created, not raised as a human normally would be?" He paused, trying to think of a good way to phrase his next words. "I remember I heard this argument from someone once, and I think it applies well. If the monster can be classified as a person, then do people not all follow the same rules regardless?"

"Don't get you," Yuffie shrugged. She pulled a cereal bar out of the pocket of her shirt and Vincent was almost tempted to tell her not to eat in the library, except that he felt that he needed to explain his point rather than distract himself.

"Let us say…there is someone you know who is very, very poor. And this person treats you awfully – they insult you, they steal from you. What do you do?"

Yuffie chewed thoughtfully on a piece of the cereal bar. She gestured to him to continue.

"Many people would choose to pity the person and let it slide. Because they are poor. But is that not arrogant? You are thinking of yourself as better than that person – a higher level of human than that person – because they are poor. You are treating them as though they do not deserve the same level of punishment you might inflict on yourself or me."

He felt relieved when understanding dawned in her eyes. "So…you mean that the monster has enough intelligence to pass for a person. It knows the murders it's done is wrong, and it can hold conversation and explain itself. So by rights…just because it was 'created'…it shouldn't be an exception to the rule?"

Vincent nodded. He didn't understand why having her say it made him suddenly feel heavier inside.

"Yeah, I think I see what you mean." Yuffie took another bite of her cereal bar. "I still think it's a crock of shit though."

His eyes widened subtly.

"'Cause the difference with poor people is that they've been part of the evolutionary chain and the childhood thing you talked about. The monster wasn't. So at the end of the day – I still think Frankenstein himself is to blame, not the monster." Yuffie put the empty wrapper in her pocket and gave Vincent a charming grin. "And let's think of it this way…would the monster have been labelled a monster if Frankenstein hadn't been there to call it that?"

How very strange this girl was. A little too idealistic, maybe. He was interested in what her views on the recent wars in her country meant to her – Vincent had a feeling they would be very unique.

"Well then, Monster-Man," Yuffie smirked, rising to her feet. "Thanks for the chat but – time's flown."

He stared at the clock and blinked. It was almost midnight. Time to close the library.

"You here every night?"

Vincent hesitated. He rose to his feet and put his organic hand in his pocket. "Yes."

"Heh." Yuffie wiggled her fingers at him in a wave. "Well then – I'll be back to shoot the breeze again soon, Monster-Man!"

He watched her leave on her long, somewhat spindly legs and wondered if she really would be back.

"Oi, Monster-Man!"

Vincent stared at her. She stood at the library's main desk, amusement all over her face.

"I kinda need to check this book out, you know!"

He lowered his head and hid a ghost of a smile. If she wasn't at the police station for stealing a man's wallet, she'd be back to return the book. And for the first time since he'd started working at the library, he looked forward to the day when she'd come back.


End file.
